


Jasper

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stone cut into his palm as his fingers tightened around it. He couldn't believe what he was hearing much less that it was coming from Rick. Carol was gone and she wasn't coming back. Gone just like that with no goodbye, no stay safe, nothing. She was gone and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to change it.  Season 4 Episode 4 spoilers.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jasper  
Chapter 1: Family Matters

The old van ate up the miles as the weary group made their way back to the prison, more drained and heart sore than the trip should have left them. Tyreese was still lost in a haze of grief thanks to Karen's loss and to Sasha going into quarantine right before they took off in a desperate attempt to get medicine. Michonne stared stone faced out the window, her attention on the road and on the bastard that had eluded them for far too long. Every trail had gone cold, every lead a dead-end. She was just now coming to terms with what Daryl had accepted long ago. The governor had given them the slip and that was all there was to it. If he got the chance, Daryl would gut the bastard and let the Walkers finish him off. That seemed less and less likely as the months passed with no word. Now, he had other things to worry about. Michonne was having to accept that Phillip Blake might be gone for good. It was going to take her a while to let it go.

Daryl looked over his shoulder and caught Bob Stookey's eye before the man hurriedly dropped his gaze to the backpack cradled lovingly in his lap. He bit back a growl, his hands opening and closing reflexively with the urge to choke the shit out of the fucker. It had taken everything in him to keep from tossing the prick off the roof and into the walker horde clamoring below. The only thing that kept him from it was the man's medical knowledge and how badly they needed him back at the prison. Dr. S was already locked in isolation. Now Hershel had gone in of his own free will to try to ease the suffering until Daryl made it back with the meds. Carol was still on her feet, but her attention was on those two girls. She and Maggie were both battling to keep an even keel with loved ones over in A fighting for their lives. It was hard enough, knowing that his family and friends were suffering without having to deal with a dumbass and his addiction.

Anger, hot and bright and welcome, flared anew as Bob continued to avoid his gaze. Son of a bitch. Stupid fuck. Didn't they have enough to worry about without this shit? He rolled the light green stone between his hands, his thumb sliding along the rough edges and facets. Jasper was an uncommon stone in Georgia but you could find it if you knew what you were looking for. Daryl thought of the shoebox he'd kept under his bed as a kid. He had been fascinated with rocks and fossils and anything that got him out of the house. It was the one thing he had that belonged just to him. Part of the blame fell on his mother and her stories of Cherokee roses and legends and stones that healed and protected. Jasper was her favorite before she died. Now, it was his.

The welcome sight of the fences pulled him out of his musings. He heard Michonne let out a breath and echoed it. Hopefully they'd made it back in time to do some good. Some would have passed on and that hurt more than he wanted to let on. He couldn't think about them, couldn't let it pull him down because he'd never crawl out. He'd mourn afterward, help do right by the dead but the important thing was those still breathing. They had to be priority number one. They had to be.

The courtyard was largely deserted when they rolled through the gate. Daryl grabbed his pack and shouldered his crossbow before pushing the door open and bailing out. He walked toward C block, anxious to find out what was happening. A few people congregated under the outdoor pavilion that served as a dining area. Hopeful eyes followed him as he strided across the courtyard. He nodded shortly in response to their questions. Are you okay? Did you get the medicine? Did everybody make it back? The others followed closely, just as quiet and intent as he was on getting inside and handing the medicine over to those that could do something with it.

Rick met him at the entrance, his worried blue eyes darting from one to the other. They softened when he realized that all four had made it back. He chuckled softly, clasping Daryl on the shoulder before giving Michonne a one-armed hug. "Glad to see you," he murmured. She gave him a half-hearted smile but didn't answer. She walked past them, heading for her cell at the far end of the corridor. Bob and Tyreese gave Daryl a sidelong look as they followed the taciturn woman. Rick's brow furrowed as Bob gave Daryl a wide berth, tightly clutching his pack to his chest as he eased past.

"Everything alright?" Rick questioned. "You get the stuff?"

"Yeah, we got it," Daryl answered, his gaze darting around the cell block. "Had a few bad minutes but nothing we couldn't handle. Everything okay here?" He glanced briefly at Rick, taking in the man's pale face and his anxious expression. "How many did we lose?"

Rick shrugged, meeting Daryl's questioning look with a pained one of his own. "One dead, five more sick. We went on a shot run while you were gone to stock up on what we could. Maggie was on her own for a while but it worked out."

Daryl finally realized whose face he hadn't seen since they'd gotten back. Carol. He took another quick glance around before asking, "So where's Carol? She over in Admin checking on the kids?" Rick's nervous expression morphed into a solemn mask as the man seemed to brace himself. "Rick?" He repeated. "Where's Carol? Is something wrong?" The bottom fell out of his stomach as another possibility occurred to him. "Is she sick? Does she have it? Fuck, man, say something!" His tone bordered on hysterical as Rick remained silent. "Where the hell is she?"

"She's gone," Rick finally confided. "I had to do it. She confessed to killing them, Daryl. She killed Karen and David. She decided on her own that they were a threat and had to be eliminated and acted on it. She disregarded everything the Council decided and killed them in cold blood. I took her out, gave her some supplies, and told her to go." He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and met Daryl's astonished gaze squarely. "I did what I had to do for her and for the good of the group."

The stone cut into his palm as his fingers tightened around it. He couldn't believe what he was hearing much less that it was coming from Rick. Carol was gone and she wasn't coming back. Gone just like that with no goodbye, no stay safe, nothing. She was gone and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to change it.

Fury kindled a twisted and tangled thing that tunneled his vision until all he could see was the tenuous certainty on Rick's face. He'd made the call and was sticking with his decision no matter what. Fuck what the rest of them thought, fuck everything that Carol had done for them, and fuck everything they'd gone through together. He'd cut her loose and sent her off to fend for herself.

Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and slick, coating the stone still clutched in his hand. No way. No fucking way. He wasn't going to lose anybody else, especially not her. He spun on his heel and made a beeline for his cell. He heard footsteps following him but didn't look around to see who it was. He tossed a few shirts and an extra pair of pants into his rucksack along with his spare knife. His gun was swiftly checked and tucked into a convenient pocket along with an extra clip. He grabbed his spare quiver on his way out of the cell, slinging it over his shoulder with his bag.

"Where do you think you're going?" Rick asked harshly. "I told you what she did and why she had to leave. This is for the best, Daryl. Stop for a minute and think it through. You know this was the only way."

Daryl shrugged off Rick's hand and kept walking, refusing to acknowledge Michonne calling his name from the far end of the cell block. He stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder where Rick stood frozen. "Which way did she go? What was she driving?"

Rick's sigh was barely audible and his shoulders slumped when he saw his friend wasn't going to change his mind. "You're really going to do this, leave the group to go chasing after one person. We need you here, Daryl. People are sick and you're on the council. The people here are your responsibility. You can't just take off any time you feel like it."

Daryl's hands tightened to fists, the jasper cutting deeper into his flesh. "I've done my part. You've got the medicine. Hershel can take care of the rest. I'm going to bring her home to her damned family where she belongs"

"She's safer out there," Rick argued. "If Tyreese finds out, he'll kill her. The other Woodbury people will be there to cheer him on, Daryl. They won't want her here once they find out what she did."

"Fuck them," Daryl growled. "And fuck you, Rick, if you think she deserves this. Carol's family, our family. She's been there right down the line. You don't let one of your own go, not like this." He shouldered past the man and made for the cell block exit. "Just so you know if she don't want to come back then I'm done. No her, no me."

"You don't mean that," Rick yelled after him. "Dammit, Daryl, don't do something you'll regret."

"Don't worry, brother," Daryl spared him one last look. "The only thing I regret is that I've wasted this much time. I won't make that mistake again." With that said, he strolled determinedly out of the cell block without a backwards glance.

End part 1


	2. Taking It for Granted

Jasper

Chapter 2: Taking It for Granted

_Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted. ~Paul Pearshall_

He went straight to the green Hyundai and threw the door open, tossing his stuff in to the passenger seat. Flipping the visor down, he caught the keys and slotted them into the ignition as he took note of the gas hand. He grunted in satisfaction seeing the needle stood steady at the full mark and then popped the hood to check the oil. He kicked the front tire as he passed by just for the hell of it.

Part of him drew back from what he was about to do, the part that had grown over the past ten months as he came into his own and stepped up to lead the group. The other part, the one that sounded like Merle and whispered from darkened corners that nobody would ever love him or see him as anything but trash, drawled that this was his fault. If he hadn't been so busy playing the big man, he'd have been there. She could have come to him instead of taking everything on herself. He'd fucked up and now she was paying for it.

"You really leaving," her cold, even drawl pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Michonne leaning casually against the door, her katana held loosely in her hand. "Thought you said staying around was important. Now here you are about to go running off with your hair on fire in spite of all those big ideals you were spouting. Are you going lone wolf or are you going to stay with the pack? You know what's out there. Just because we ain't seen hide or hair of him don't mean that he's not around waiting for a chance to bite."

Daryl shifted foot to foot, avoiding her gaze as he slammed the hood shut and shouldered past her. "Not why I'm going and you know it. She's alone. He left her without so much as a go to hell."

"He did what he thought he had to," Michonne retorted. "You saw how Ty was back there. He's been seeing red since he found the bodies. He would be at her throat the minute he found out. Maybe she's safer gone than here where she'll have to watch her back every minute."

"She wouldn't be alone here," he argued fiercely. "That's been the priority from day one, keeping the group together. Fuck it. Rick was the one who preached that the loudest. The only one who harped on it more than he did was Carol. She refused to let anybody go. She's earned her damned place."

"Didn't she lose it by killing two of her own?" Michonne played the devil's advocate well, refusing to look away from his menacing glare. "The rest of you wouldn't have cut her loose but Rick didn't take a vote before he acted. Neither did she."

"I don't know why she did it," he mumbled, hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes on the dirt under his boots. "I don't know what the hell happened. I won't know until I find her."

Michonne kicked his foot with hers; mirroring an exchange they'd had a hundred times out on the road. It was short-hand for quit being a dumb ass and he couldn't help the grin that wormed its way on to his face. "And you're assuming that she wants to be found and to come back. Rick said she didn't fight him on his decision. She got in the car and drove off. She could just as easily have come back here and forced a confrontation. It wouldn't have been pretty but she could have done it."

"Course she didn't," Daryl shook his head roughly. "She ain't like that."

Michonne sneered, her mouth twisting into an ugly gash. "Of course she's not. Saint Carol of the Prison, revered and beloved by all." Her mocking tone seared like acid, no attempt to soften or deflect the burn. "You couldn't see that underneath all that sweetness and light was a flesh and blood woman who had to rebuild herself from the ground up. She never asked for any of it to happen and nobody ever asked her if she was okay with it. It's Carol who never raised a hand to a soul except to soothe a hurt or offer comfort."

"I know her," he broke off their staring match, his breath coming out in stuttering pants. "Don't matter what happened, she's still Carol. She learned to fight but she's still the same as she was the day I pulled her out of the tombs."

"You moved the damned Earth to get her back. But what did you bring her back to, Daryl? What was left after the killing and the fighting was done? Who sacrificed for her, bled for her, and loved her? She changed just like we all did; only she didn't do it for her. She did it for you, for Rick, for the Greene girls, for this so-called family that you say you have. But did any of you change for her? No, I don't think so."

He swung to face her, his face taut with anger and disbelief. "She knows how we feel about her," Daryl growled. "She knows what she means to us."

"Now she does," Michonne nodded in agreement. "She became what she thought your family needed her to be and got tossed out like the trash. You think she's going to thank you for bringing her back to that."

"Whose fucking side are you on?" He barked. "Make up your damned mind. First its Rick did what Rick had to do and now its Carol did a Houdini act and got cut loose because we wouldn't accept who she is now. It's not that cut and dried, dammit."

Her jeering laughter brought him up short. "Blood is blood," she pointed out. "You said so yourself. Ain't that what you holier-than-thou types preach? She made a call and it was the wrong one. That woman, despite it going against every truth she'd ever clung to, killed two innocent people on the chance that it just might save somebody she loved. That's what she's going to tell herself. It's not the truth but, for her, it's all she's got."

"Then why the hell did she do it," he rasped. "You know so damned much about her, tell me that."

"Trying to bring order to the chaos," she ticked off her fingers one by one. "To give her a sense of control, fear." She tapped her thumb and dropped her hands to her side. "Or maybe she thought they deserved to go like human beings instead of rotting sacks of meat. I don't know why. That's something you're going to have to ask her."

"I ain't got time for this shit," he tugged the door open and dropped into the seat, already gunning the motor. "She's out there and I won't quit until I know she's alright."

"And if she won't come back with you, what then?" She probed her eyes boring into his demanding an answer. "No her, no you. You going to stand by that? You didn't before when you left with Merle."

"I don't fucking know," Daryl's fists crashed into the steering wheel, his temper finally getting the better of him. "I guess that depends on her, don't it?"

Michonne shook her head slowly, an enigmatic smile crossing her face. "No, Daryl, she's made her decision. That one, it's all on you. Better get that right in your head before you find her. She's made her choice. Now, you're gonna have to make yours."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He pulled the car into park and shut off the engine as he stared at the small cluster of houses. There was no sign that anybody had been here recently, much less that the damned world had shifted on its axis. He pulled the map out of the glove box and folded it over until he found what he was looking for. The enormity of what he was taking on hit him like a gut punch, pushing the air from his lungs and leaving him weak and dazed. She could be anywhere.

He slumped in the seat, one hand fisting the map while the other covered his eyes, shutting out the world. Daryl hadn't stopped until now to think about what she'd done and how he was going to deal with it. Carol wouldn't kill in cold blood. She just wouldn't and he knew it. Knew it like he knew his own name. She would fight if she had to. She would look out for those kids with everything she had because she said she would. If she did it, she had her reasons and he needed to know what they were. He needed to hear it from her so that he could understand. He wanted to understand. And to do that, he had to find her.

The suburb where she and Rick had gone on their run was twenty miles from the prison. The road was clear for the most part with only a few stalled vehicles and downed trees to contend with. He traced the two lane until it crossed the fold, mouthing curses interspersed with Rick's name. Why the fuck had the man taken it upon himself to play judge and jury? Except for when he'd declared himself leader after the shit at the farm went down, Rick handled things by putting it to a vote so they could talk it through. Every decision was debated until there was no ground left to cover…what to do with Randall, whether or not to take the prison, and then whether or not to stay. Nothing about this made sense. It never would unless he got off his ass and figured out where he was going next.

The map was tattered and covered with faded pencil marks. Daryl smoothed it down flat, following the road in a dim hope that something would jump out at him. Most of the surrounding area had been covered the winter before they found the prison. Those eight months had been hell, running from one place to another trying to hang on, to survive. Everywhere for fifty miles around had been picked clean. She knew that as well as he did which left him right back where he started. Where the hell would she go? Not to Woodbury. That place was in shambles after he and Rick loaded up the people left and brought them back to the prison. They'd hauled away what was worth salvaging and left the rest to the walkers. She was smart enough not to head blindly into new territory. She would find a place to hole up, get her bearings, and lick her wounds.

He shook his head angrily at the thought of her alone and hurting. Damn Rick anyway. Damn this whole fucked up world. Daryl rearranged the map until he was back where he started. He traced the road again, trying to think like his prey. Where would she head? Denied the prison, where would she go? He knew what he'd do if he had to leave the group and go off alone. As much as he hated it, he would go someplace he knew, someplace familiar. The way he figured it, she wouldn't be any different. He felt a small spark of hope flicker but hurriedly squashed it before it caught. It was a wild idea, grasping at straws. "Think it through," he muttered. "Don't go off half-assed. You've only got one good shot at this. Don't fuck it up."

Home. It made a warped kind of sense. The brief possibility that she might go to the Greene farm presented itself but he immediately shot that down. She would be able to stay there for a few days but not long term. So with that off the table, that left just one place he could think of that she might head for. It was a long shot but, for now, it was all he had. He gnawed at his bottom lip, considering it from all angles. He mapped out the most likely route, doubling back when he came too close to a large town or the interstate. He skirted the edge of Carrolton, grunting in satisfaction as secondary roads took him well past Atlanta's bulk. From there it was a short jaunt to Rome. Again, she'd have to stay to the outskirts but there'd be plenty of spots where she'd be able to resupply or hole up for a few days. From there, she'd need to cross the interstate just past Calhoun. That would be the worst part of the trip because most would have headed for I-75 as the quickest way out. That meant more cars, more traffic snarls, and more chances to run into trouble. If she made it that far, it wasn't much further to where he guessed she would end up.

He marked out the way once more, adding up the miles in his head until he was satisfied. It wasn't an easy trip and a hundred things could go wrong between here and there. A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that if she was smart and kept her wits about her, it was doable. "Carol, dammit, don't you fucking die on me," he whispered. "Don't you dare." He tossed the map into the passenger seat alongside his crossbow and his pistol. He reversed out of the cul-de-sac and gave the houses one last look before heading out.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxox

Carol stopped the car and climbed out the minute the sign came into view. She chanced a look around before opening the door and stepping out. Her back muscles protested as she rolled her shoulders and stretched to ease the stiffness of the long ride. It had taken the better part of a week to get here but she'd made it. She looked at the faded sign and laughed ruefully. To say she'd never expected to set foot in this town again was a gross understatement. She'd loved it once upon a time, back when she was too young and wide-eyed to know better. Back before Ed had shown her just how much of a bastard he could be. The small town was everything she'd dreamed of as the only child of a single working mother. It was a place of green lawns and towering trees, pretty parks and rolling hills.

She eyed the sign one last time before squaring her shoulders. "Jasper, Georgia…the first mountain city…welcomes you." she murmured before climbing back into the car and blowing out a breath. "Home sweet home."

End Part 2….

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Gotta give a shout out to Bleedtoloveher who pointed out that avoiding the interstates would be a necessary evil and gave me some suggestions for alternate routes from the prison to Jasper. Any mistakes are mine as I was greatly dependent on Google maps. The response to this story has floored me. THANK YOU! THANK YOU! Review if you like….I'll love you for it. If you're up for a chat...send me a PM or come visit me on Tumblr….I'm whowhatsitwhich over there as well. Thanks ever so much for reading.


	3. Moving Forward and Looking Back

Jasper

Chapter 3: Moving Forward and Looking Back

_"She understands now what she, in all her worry, had forgotten. That even as she hesitates and wavers, even as she thinks too much and moves too cautiously, she doesn't always have to get it right. It's okay to look back, even as you move forward." ― Jennifer E. Smith, The Comeback Season_

The building was still and silent in the thin gray light of dawn. Her back ached from lying in one place all night and it took everything she had to straighten and let her feet find the floor. Carol threaded her fingers together and pushed up, twisting first to one side than the other, joints and tendons popping in protest. She then rubbed the back of her neck and scrubbed her hands through her close-cropped hair. The longer strands stuck out in whirls and corkscrews which she tried to straighten before giving up with a shrug.

She didn't have it in her to go back to the house. There were too many demons there and she was in no shape to fight. That place had never been home, not like it should have been. It had been a prison. She stifled a whimper her hands splayed on her stomach. The prison, her friends and family, the girls, him. How would she make it without them? Would they ever know why? Would they care about her reasons?

She shook her head angrily. "Can't think about that now," she muttered through clenched teeth. "You're here. You're alive. That's what's important. Get camp together, check your supplies, and check your weapons." A wry smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. He had drilled that into her during those cold winter months before they found the prison until she performed the acts by rote. Daryl Dixon, it seemed, was always going to be with her. The thought comforted her even as her heart ached with the knowledge that she'd probably never see him again.

After she decided against staying at the house, there was only one place that she could think of to go. The Community Action Center on West Church Street had been something of a Godsend over the years. She only went when she had no other choice. Ed would sometimes take off for days, leaving her and Sophia with little food and no money. He wouldn't let her work so she did what she had to. Her grandmother's jewelry, her papaw's watch, her cousin's silver dollars were the first things to go. She learned to squirrel away dried beans, Ramen noodles, canned fruit and condensed soup. When it got bad, she swallowed her pride and went to the food bank. Keeping Sophia fed was more important than her pride. She'd forfeited that long before the dead started walking. It was laughable to think that the selfsame charity kitchen that kept body and soul together during the worst days of her marriage was going to keep her alive now.

Grant money allowed the county to expand some services so an addition was built that contained showers and beds for those in need. To her knowledge, it had only been used a couple of times, usually when tornados hit or a fire took someone's home in the middle of the night. She only knew about it because Mrs. Jenkins who ran the food bank slipped a pamphlet into her box on one of her last visits. Her face still bore bruises and makeup couldn't hide everything no matter how skillfully applied. The kindly woman didn't ask and Carol didn't make excuses. She found the leaflet when she unpacked the box at home, tucked into the corner where it would be noticed but would be secure until seen.

She whispered a prayer for Mrs. Jenkins despite not having spoken to God since Sophia's passing. The building, while not as sturdy as the prison, had thick walls, small windows, and a pantry full of food. All in all, she was okay as long as a herd or groups like Randall's didn't blow through. Almost everyone packed up and headed for Atlanta when things started getting bad. Those few that stayed behind, most didn't make it past the first few months and the rest had moved on. As near as she could tell, she had the town to herself. It wasn't a comforting thought.

Carol finished checking her pistol and tucked it into the small of her back before pulling out her knife and testing the edge on her thumb. She hissed as the blade bit, tiny pearls of red dotting the line. Still sharp then. She wiped the blood on the tail of her shirt, stowed the knife, and finished lacing her boots before making her way to the kitchen. It didn't take long to bring water to a boil, reserving half for coffee and dumping a packet of instant oatmeal in the other. She added a package of raisins to the warm cereal and stirred it a few times before taking a careful bite. It scalded her tongue but she ignored it in lieu of her growling stomach. Hot meals were a rarity these days, too good to pass up so she gulped down every bite, savoring the mellow sweetness of the fruit.

"Can't get too used to this," she warned herself. She licked the spoon clean, running a finger around the bowl to get the last few bits. She sucked her fingers clean, stopping in mid-motion as what she'd just done caught up with her. Dammit, why did every little thing have to remind her of what she'd left behind? She looked down at her hand, feeling an unwelcome ache settle into the pit of her stomach. A sad smile played about the corners of her mouth. His bad manners were catching.

Trying to keep herself occupied, she tossed her few dishes into the sink along with a liberal dollop of soap before turning the water on full blast. Bubbles frothed and writhed beneath the stream as they mounded, burying the pan and bowl beneath a mountain of white. She let the sink fill until there was an Everest of sorts in the basin. Scooping up a handful, she puffed out her cheeks and blew them across the kitchen, the faint memory of light girlish laughter echoing through her mind. Why don't you say her name? She's dead, Rick. Her throat knotted. It's somebody else's slide show.

Bitter, black betrayal scalded her throat as bile burned a lava trail, leaving a sour taste in her mouth.  _That's not my little girl_. How many times would she remember those words and regret _? My Sophia was alone in the woods_. It was she that was alone now. Those words…those unforgiveable words. Was her survival dependent on letting go of everything she knew to be real and true about her? Was she already so far gone that there was no way back?

Her head moved of its own accord. No. That was the one thing she refused to let go of. Sophia might be dead but her mother wasn't. This world hadn't taken everything. Not yet.  _I didn't know I could be strong_. Strong. What the hell was that? What did it mean? She didn't know. She thought she did. Strong was the opposite of weak. Carol from before, that Carol was weak. She was malleable. She couldn't help herself, much less her little girl. She took everything Ed dished out to keep him from Sophia. It was a holding action and she knew it, God help her she knew. Sooner or later, he would have made his move and she would have been powerless to stop it.

She clamped down on that line of thought before it took root. There were too many regrets and what might have been's attached to them. She decided during the long winter before they found the prison that she wouldn't be a burden anymore and took steps to change. She couldn't help but wonder if that had been a mistake. In her quest to be strong, she felt as if she'd lost something, some piece of her that made her who and what she was. Yes, she was stronger now. She was decisive and spoke up instead of hanging back, waiting for somebody else to choose and tell her how to act. She wasn't that woman who was scared to be alone any longer. The woman she saw looking back at her in the mirror bore little resemblance to Sophia's mother.

 _Carol, did you kill Karen and David? Yes_. In the strictest sense of the word, she had killed them. The flu or whatever it was, burned through them like wildfire. It cored them like an apple, leaving behind blood soaked, and moaning husks. They were drowning. She and Sasha went to check on them, hoping the illness wasn't progressing as quickly as it had with Patrick. What they found was horrifying. Both lay on their sides, choking and gasping as blood and mucus clogged their throats. Their coughing seemed to make it worse.

_Karen heaved and thrashed in a vain attempt to catch her breath, spraying the cell in gouts of red. Sasha hurriedly unlocked the door and lifted the woman to a sitting position, her face and hands slick with gore as Karen let loose another round a coughing, covering them both. David's breathing stuttered as Carol unlocked the door and darted inside. Without thought, she swept his mouth clean of the gruesome mixture, rolling him on his side while pounding his back roughly with the heel of her hand. She could hear Sasha screaming for her help as she continued to work on David, murmuring for him to slow down, breath in and out, take it easy. Sasha's cries grew increasingly more urgent. Carol gave David an anguished look before bolting for the door._

" _She's not breathing," Sasha cried her arms crimson to the elbow and her shirt plastered to her front._

_Carol elbowed her aside, her heart pounding madly as she watched Karen's chest give one last rise and fall. She put her fingers on Karen's neck, fingers sliding in the muck as she searched frantically for a pulse. Nothing. Not one beat. Sasha pleaded with her, voice breaking on a sob to do something, anything but please don't let her die. Carol shook her head helplessly. "She's gone," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. She's gone."_

_Sasha seemed to gather herself, her face crumpled in agony before she caught herself. "We have to finish it. We can't take the chance of somebody coming down here." Carol nodded, her expression mirroring the other woman's. She unsheathed her knife but stopped as Sasha laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'll do it," she whispered. "It should be me. Go check David."_

_When she entered the other cell, it was clear that he was already gone. She let a few tears fall as she plunged her knife into the back of his head. She heard Sasha's footsteps outside the door and turned, meeting the woman's somber gaze. "Now what?" Sasha questioned her voice heavy with grief. "Do we just leave them here? What do we do now?"_

_Carol's heart lurched, her eyes burning as she took in the woman's blood stained clothes and downcast expression. "This block was set aside for isolating anyone who turns up sick. We need to take them out and clean up," Her voice broke, a fresh round of tears threatening. "We'll have to burn the bodies and disinfect the cells." Sasha gave her a horrified look, her mouth opening soundlessly as words failed to come. "I know we bury our loved ones but we don't know what this is or where it came from. We have to try to stop the spread. We're running out of places for people to go."_

_Sasha gave her a searching look but reluctantly nodded in agreement. "You're right," she replied grudgingly. "I hate it but you're right. We have to do what we can to protect the others." She gestured toward Karen's cell. "Let's take her out first then we'll come back for him."_

_The two women took up a place at either end of the bed, lifting the body clear of the blood soaked sheets. Sasha cursed fluently as she slipped, knocking over a table in the process. She found her footing, clumsily lifting Karen over the fallen table and maneuvering her toward the door. "Hold on," she sputtered, straining to regain her hold. They eased Karen to the floor, both breathing heavily as they eyed each other over the corpse. "You go first," Sasha suggested, kneeling down to get a firm grip on Karen's feet. "It'll be easier to maneuver her." Carol nodded, sliding her hands beneath Karen's arms and lifting her up. They made it a few steps before Sasha stopped suddenly, hiding her face in the crook of her arm to muffle a cough. Her panicked expression tugged at Carol's heart._

" _Go get cleaned up," Carol ordered tersely. "Then go see Dr. S. I'll take care of this and let the others know what happened. Go on." She waved Sasha off, hiding her own terror behind a reassuring smile. "I'll check on you once I get this taken care of."_

Little did she know how the chain of events would play out. Sasha ended up in isolation, fighting for her life, not knowing what the result of their actions would be. Tyreese stumbled upon Karen and David while she went to get water to clean up the cells and then attacked first Daryl and then Rick in his grief. She could have ended it right then and there, spilled the story and damn the consequences. Instead, she held her tongue, deciding that it was best to let heads and tempers cool. It kept coming, events building one upon the other into a tsunami that took her under. When Rick blurted out his accusation, she answered him truthfully. She'd stood by and watched them die and couldn't do a damned thing to stop it despite all she'd learned from Hershel and Dr. S. She waited for him to ask why, the weight of the buckets dragging on her arms. She stood, waiting and watching as he stared back. When he said nothing, she breathed a sigh of relief; sure that he understood what she didn't say. Instead, he'd gone completely in the other direction.

She couldn't believe that he'd told her to go, reasoning that Tyreese would try to take her head before listening to her side of things. It hurt even more that he looked her in the eye and said straight out that he didn't want her around Judith and Carl, two kids she considered as much hers as Sophia. They were her family, every one of them. She loved them enough to make any sacrifice to keep them safe, even if it meant giving up her place at the prison. If Rick, who had been through Hell with her, could assume her capable of cold-blooded murder then so could the rest of them. Some would stand with her, arguing her side zealously and without thought of how it would affect the group. It would split them, leave them weak. Better to go than that.

She looked down at her trembling hands, clasped tightly in front of her. Missing them was all well and good but that wouldn't keep her belly full or her lungs pumping. Carol forced herself to forget everything but the tasks in front of her. She needed to inventory her supplies, scout the rest of town for sign of other groups or possible herds, and try to figure out what the hell she was going to do next. If she'd learned anything since the world fell apart, it was to worry about what was in front of you and not about what was already said and done.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxo

The sign was chipped and faded, its green paint dull and thin even in the bright afternoon light. He squinted, staring at it from beneath his sweat soaked fringe, wondering for the hundredth time if he was fucking crazy. She could be anywhere by now. Hell, she could be back at the prison or dead or broke down on the side of the road. He didn't have a damned clue and it tore at his guts like acid. She could be anywhere. There was no reason to think that she'd come here of all places, nothing but a leap of faith and a vague hope.

Muttering a curse under his breath, he put the car in gear and hit the gas. "Jasper," he muttered thickly. "The first mountain city welcomes you." A hoarse laugh escaped him. The only welcome this town could give him was the knowledge that she was alive and well. That was all he wanted. The rest, he figured he'd work that out when it came up.

Michonne's last words chased their tail in his head. What would he do if she didn't want to go back with him? Would he stay? Would she want him to? He tried to put it out of his mind but the words wouldn't leave him alone. What would he do if she didn't want to go and didn't want him to stay? Could he walk away from her? Could he live with himself knowing that he'd left the prison weaker by taking off? True, there was more people there capable of helping with the heavy lifting but part of him still considered it his job to care for and provide for them. He couldn't deny that it felt good to be needed. He'd never had anything like what he had at the prison…the acceptance and camaraderie. He'd always been on the outside looking in, written off as poor white trash.

Things were different at the prison. He was different. Daryl was pragmatic enough to know a large part of that was due to Carol. She refused to let him go, insisting that he was just as good as the rest of them. When he finally started to believe it, she gave him one of her Cheshire cat smiles and insisted that she liked him first. He'd responded with his usual order to stop, his ears pink despite every attempt to keep from blushing. She saw, hell she always saw, and told him to learn to live with the love. He missed her double talk and teasing. He just missed her. He didn't give a shit what might happen, he just wanted to see her with his own eyes and know that she was alright.

The town was small with streets following the usual grid pattern. If she was here, it shouldn't be too hard to find out where she'd holed up. The first place to check was the house even though the likelihood of her staying there bordered somewhere between slim and none. He picked up a map he's scrounged at a gas station about twenty miles back and stared at it through narrowed eyes. It took a few minutes but he finally spotted the little loop off of South Richards Street.

" _If there's a hell on Earth, the mailbox is on Lilly Circle," she commented quietly one late summer night as they stood side by side in the courtyard, her looking up at the stars while he watched the fence. She quirked a smile at the inquiring tilt of his head, the only outward sigh he gave that he'd heard her. "That's where we lived, Ed and Sophia and I, on Lilly Circle in Jasper. It's a little street that doesn't go anywhere. It's the end of the road, so to speak." She laughed at her own joke, an edge of bitterness underlying the playful tone. "My own personal hell on Earth," she quipped again. "I hope I never see it again."_

That conversation played in his mind as he traced the loop on the map. It was as good a place to start as any. Something told him that the house she called hell would be the key to finding her if she had come back home. If nothing else, he'd finally see it for himself and be able to stand somewhere that she'd lived with Sophia, made happy memories despite Ed and his bullshit. The thought appealed to him, pulled him toward it. It was a part of her and he wanted to go there if only for that reason.

The drive was short and amazingly free of any traffic snarls. It looked like everyone had left, headed for greener pastures. He made the turn on to the loop and parked down the street from the mailbox that had Peletier written in silver script on the side. He climbed out slowly, eyeing the house for any clue that she might have been there. The door was closed and the windows were still bolted tightly despite sitting empty for months. The yard was a tangled mass of weeds and flowers. Azaleas and asters dominated the unruly beds while dandelions dotted the feathery expanse of lawn. The house looked lonely, deserted, and forgotten. He climbed the porch steps and peered in through the front window. The living room was littered with toys and bits of clothing. They'd left in a hurry. The discarded rag doll lying in the middle of the living room knotted his throat.

He moved toward the edge of the porch, dropping lightly into the overgrown flowerbed, and headed around the side of the house. The distant sound of a motor pulled his head around. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He unlimbered the crossbow and double-checked the bolt, already nocked and ready to fire. He then darted around the edge of the house, taking refuge behind an elderberry bush. Not a moment too soon as dust-colored Ford wagon eased to a stop before the house. His breath caught as the driver's side door opened and she climbed out, running a hand nervously through her hair as she peered at the house.

He started toward her without thinking, the sight of her propelling him forward faster and faster until he was almost running. She wheeled toward the noise, her hand falling to the knife at her side. Her eyes widened when she saw him, her lips forming his name. He didn't answer, didn't stop until he swept her up into a tight embrace, picking her feet clean off the ground. He heard a muffled whimper that sounded like a cross between a sob and a laugh just as her arms wound around his neck. He held her close, burying his face in her bedraggled hair, whispering something that resembled her name.

"What are you doing here?" She asked softly, trying to catch his eye and failing miserably as he refused to relinquish his hold. "How did you know where to find me?"

He shrugged, the muscles taut beneath her hands as she slid her arms around his shoulders, reveling in the knowledge that he was here and this was real. "Guessed that you'd head for somewhere familiar, even someplace you hated. Figured if I was in your shoes, I'd head for home. Seemed like the best guess so here I am."

Carol laughed, taking a moment to push his unruly bangs out of his eyes. He gave her a lopsided smile, the barest curve to his mouth as he leaned into her touch. "Just like that, huh?" She chuckled and poked him playfully in the chest. "You think you're pretty smart." She sobered then, remembering then why she'd left the prison. She backed out of his arms, her own wound protectively around her middle. "I appreciate you coming all this way. Sorry to cause so much trouble."

"Carol, don't," he growled. "Don't say sorry for something that ain't your fault. The main thing is that you're okay and I found ya. That's the only thing I give a damn about."

She smiled sadly as she backed further away, watching him through wary eyes. "I'm fine. I'll be okay. You don't have to worry about me, Daryl."

"The fuck I don't," he grated out. "I came to take you home. Ain't right what Rick done. You belong back with us."

She shook her head, tears beading and falling unheeded as she took another step back. He reached for her, frowning as she deftly avoided his hands. "I am home, Daryl," she reminded him gently. "I can't go back there. Not now. I'm sorry."

He straightened lips thin and white as he stared her down. Finally, he nodded to himself and crossed his arms over his chest. "You staying here then so am I," he announced suddenly. His firm expression didn't alter at her shocked look. If anything, he looked more determined than she'd ever seen him. "Ain't leaving here without you."

"But the prison," she sputtered. "Judith, Rick, the others…they need you, Daryl. You can't just walk away like that. It's your home. You belong there."

He closed the distance between them, fingers tipping up her chin so she couldn't miss his stern look. His blue eyes were fixed on her, daring her to look away. "You're wrong," he said softly. "Wherever you are, that's where I belong. I told Rick before I left that it was both of us or neither. You're home to me, Carol. I ain't leaving you." Dropping his hand, he headed for his car to get his stuff leaving her staring after him in open-mouthed wonder.

End part 3…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I had a few things I had to get straight in my head before I could get this chapter down. I have no idea what really happened with Karen and David. This is just one version that I came up with that seemed more in character for Carol than arbitrarily deciding to kill them. Leave a review if it pleases you. Come visit me on Tumblr at whowhatsitwhich if you're so inclined. Thanks for reading


	4. What is Needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and favorite this story. It really means a lot to me. I haven't gotten the hang of these characters yet but every time a new notice rolls into my inbox, it boosts my confidence that I'm headed in the right direction. Come see me on Tumblr if you're so inclined. I'm there under whowhatsitwhich as well. Thanks again. It was an honor to write this for you.

Jasper

Chapter 4: What is Needed

_"The seeker embarks on a journey to find what he wants and discovers, along the way, what he needs."― Wally Lamb, The Hour I First Believed_

She watched him walk away, her mind turning like a whirlwind as his words played over and over in her head.  _"You're wrong," he said softly. "Wherever you are, that's where I belong. I told Rick before I left that it was both of us or neither. You're home to me, Carol. I ain't leaving you."_  Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought he'd be the one to lay it all on the line. Daryl could be counted on to be a man of his word. If he said it, he meant it and that was that.  _You're home to me._ Those words made her heart stutter-step and leap joyously. She didn't know whether to laugh or weep so she did neither. She turned to the abandoned house instead and studied it as she waited for him to return.

It was sad to have so few good memories of a place she'd lived for fifteen years. The only ones were of hours spent with just Sophia for company. This house was the only home the girl ever knew. So many firsts happened here. First words, first steps, first bike ride, first birthday party, and Sophia's first kiss although Ed would have killed her if he knew. Johnny Chambers was a tow-headed stray from a few streets over. He came by at least once a week to ask if Carol would let Sophia come out and play. She relented and then watched from the back door as the pair took to the yard.

Carol decided to wash the dishes in lieu of her usual chores so she could keep an eye on them. She huffed out a laugh when Johnny, taking his fate in his hands, leaned in to plant a quick dry kiss on Sophia's shocked mouth. Her eyes rounded until they took up most of her face and she darted a quick look toward the house. Carol ducked behind the curtains, her hands covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. She couldn't hear what was said but the big smiles were enough to give them away. It was the first time Carol admitted to herself that her baby girl wasn't a baby anymore. She was growing up all too soon.

She shook her head, pulling herself back to the present and feeling wetness on her cheeks. Her baby didn't get to grow up. There were so many firsts they didn't get, so many regrets she was left with now that Sophia was gone. She breathed Ed's name like a curse and bent to pick up a loose piece of concrete from the pitted sidewalk. Part of her, the part that was born after the world went to hell, wanted to burn the place to the ground and walk away whistling. Her fingers curled around the gravel, fighting the urge to let it fly, to break and tear until there was nothing left of this place and the life she had here. She felt the stone bite, cutting into the palm of her hand. "You're not that woman anymore," she muttered under her breath.

The sound of his returning footsteps pulled her head around. She glanced back to see him with a backpack slung over his shoulder and his crossbow in hand. His blue eyes narrowed as they took her in, taking note of her wan expression and the wetness on her cheeks. "Gonna be dark soon," he observed quietly. "Best be getting under cover." His eyes flicked past her to the house, his lips pressed into a thin white line.

"Not here," she revealed. "I couldn't…that is…I can't…not here." Her fingers tightened involuntarily on the rock and she gasped as she felt a warm wetness seep out. "Shit," she muttered, flexing her hand and shaking off the tiny drops of blood dotting her lifeline. His curse echoed hers as he gently grasped her hand and pulled her closer. "I'm okay," she assured him. "It's alright, Daryl."

"Woman," he bit out. "Don't pull away. Not now." He pulled a rag out of his back pocket and wound it around her hand. "Not here. Fine. Whatever. Where then? We need to get going or we're gonna get caught with our asses hanging out."

She clenched her fist and wiggled her fingers, testing the play in the bandage. "There's an emergency shelter over on West Church Street. It's strong and there's food and water. I'm staying there." She laughed softly at his shocked expression. "I knew about it from before. This is a small town and not a lot went on. When they started evacuating, most folks headed to Atlanta. That's where Ed wanted to go. I figured if I was coming here, the emergency shelter would be my best bet."

The corners of his mouth quirked in to an approving smile as he rolled the gravel between his palms. "Sounds good," he turned on his heel and headed back the way he'd come, pausing to look back at her. "Best to take mine. That old beater of yours would be lucky last another week." When she made no move to follow him, he stopped but didn't turn to face her. "Either I go with you or you come with me. It don't matter to me. I meant what I said, Carol. If you're staying, then so am I."

She didn't answer him; she couldn't get the words past the knot in her throat. Instead, she walked to the Ford, opened the driver's side door and pulled out her own bag. She retraced her steps to the front walk and stood there, staring at the house. It didn't hurt anymore, standing here looking at the ruins of her former life. It was somebody else's slideshow. That Carol was gone and the one left behind had been tempered by fire. She felt his eyes on her, watching and waiting. "You ready?" He asked softly. She nodded and took a last look before veering away.

Her steps faltered as she neared the car, remembering the last time she'd reached for the passenger door only to find it inexplicably locked. The door clicked open and she slid inside, dropping her bag at her feet. "Straight out and turn right," she directed, keeping her eyes fixed out the front window. She bit her lip as the Hyundai slipped into gear and began to move. "It's about 4 miles down the road." She folded her hands in her lap and watched the familiar buildings pass in silence. The feel of his fingers twining with hers startled her, made her heart leap even as her hand tightened around his. "I'm glad you're here," she mouthed quietly.

This time it was him that didn't answer. He just kept driving but he didn't let go of her hand.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxooxoxoxxooxoxxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxo

They were about two miles from the shelter when he broke the silence. She felt his eyes on her before he squeezed her hand to get her attention. Until then, she'd been staring out the window, watching as the familiar buildings slipped past. "Do you want to talk about it?" His fingers traced the delicate lines of wrist, feeling her pulse flutter at the contact.

"About what?" She breathed, not trusting herself to meet his gaze. "Why I left without any argument? Why I did it? Why I came here?"

Daryl snorted under his breath. "Not what I meant but we can start with those if you want." She forgot herself enough to turn toward him, her blue eyes wide and wondering. "I know why you did it. Rick told me that. You did it because they were in pain. They deserved better than to die like animals in a cage. You did what you had to." He glanced at the road than back to her. "I already figured out why you came back here so we don't need to go over that again. I get why you left too but I don't agree with it. You wouldn't alone, Carol. You didn't have to take it all on your shoulders."

Her voice broke on a muffled sob as she looked away to swipe furiously at her eyes. "You had enough on your plate. The run to the college was dangerous without you worrying about me. I didn't think Rick would tell me to go. I never thought it would come to this."

"He's a dumbass," Daryl bit out. "So are you if you think that I don't worry. Why do I tell you to stay safe, dammit? It's not that hard to figure out."

Carol shook her head, once again refusing to meet his eyes. "Rick had his reasons and he thought they were good ones, Daryl. Sasha and I took down two of our own. It wasn't in cold blood and I never meant for things to go the way they did."

"If he wanted to do things right, he should have waited for us. He didn't do that. He went back to his old ways and to hell with what anybody else had to say." Daryl made the turn into the Community Center Lot and shut off the engine. He let go of her hand and clutched the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "I came here hoping you'd go back with me. They're your family. That's where you belong."

She drew up her leg, turning toward him with her hands clasped in her lap. "I love them," she said baldly. "I love them more than anything but I don't think I can go back. I don't. They won't see me the same and I can't blame them. I'm not the same person I used to be."

"You're still you," he bit out. "You are. Fuck, Carol. We've all done things we wish we hadn't, even Rick. That don't mean we can't come back from them. You didn't kill them in cold blood. You put them out of their misery. You did it to protect the rest of us. That's you. You ain't a fucking murderer." He blew out a breath, staring blindly out the window toward the cinderblock building. "Michonne said you might not come back and I'd have to decide where to go from there." He braced his arms on the steering wheel and dropped his forehead on top of them.

Carol watched him silently her heart going out to him as he visibly struggled to control his emotions. "You don't have to stay," she offered quietly. "I'll be alright, Daryl. You can go back."

The leather creaked in his unyielding grip. "Dammit, I already said I'm staying with you. Quit fucking telling me to go. It ain't happening."

"But why?" She demanded in a panic-stricken tone. "Why would you do that? I have to ask, Daryl. I have to know." His jaw flexed, fingers loosening and tightening on the wheel. His gaze flicked sideways to meet hers than away again. She didn't expect him to reach into his pocket and withdraw a green stone that he dropped without explanation into her hand. "It's jasper," she said in surprise. "What's that for?" She couldn't help but think back to a similar scene and a Cherokee rose tucked into the cracked neck of a Budweiser bottle.

"Mrs. Richards wanted me to keep an eye out," he muttered. "Her husband died right before we went to the Big Spot on that last run. She wanted it to be his marker. I found this on the medicine run to give to her."

Carol swallowed noisily, thinking back to the elderly couple that originally came from Woodbury. They were married for over forty years before the dead started walking. The two of them were always together until he fell ill and passed away in the night. Carol was one of the first to arrive in their cell after the fact and took Mrs. Richards aside as Dr. S attended to her husband. "Why are you giving it to me?" She questioned hesitantly.

He wavered, his mind going back to the conversation he'd had with Mrs. Richards just a short time ago. It had been on his mind more often than not since they'd talked…more so after the run to the college and coming back to find Carol gone. Even now, he could close his eyes and see every minute.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

**_(One month before events in 30 Days without an Accident)_ **

_Daryl ambled across the courtyard with his crossbow hanging loosely over his shoulder. His gaze marked out the others grabbing a bite to eat before they headed out. The Big Spot had the potential to be a gold mine if they could get it clear. He and Sasha had already scouted it and today they were going to rig up some decoys to pull the walkers away from the entrance. If things went according to plan, they would have a wide open path when they went to clean out the store._

_He saw Carol glance toward him, her lips quirking up as she gave him a little nod by way of hello. He nodded back, angling his steps in her direction. He knew from experience that she probably had his part already set aside, knowing that he'd want to get away as soon as possible. She saw him coming and reached under the counter to pull out a covered plate. He couldn't help but grin at her, pleased in spite of himself. She never failed to look after him, whether he needed it or not. That was her way and he'd have better luck keeping the sun from coming up than to try to change her._

_He was halfway across the courtyard when Mrs. Richards called his name and gestured imperiously toward the empty seat beside her. He flicked an apologetic glance in Carol's direction before heading for the old woman. "Need something, Mrs. Richards?" He asked as he dropped into the chair._

_Her faded green eyes narrowed behind her thick glasses as she looked him over. "Need a haircut, boy," she grated. "Can't see a thing with all that hanging in your eyes. You come see me when you get back and I'll cut that back for you. You go wandering around half blind and one of the biters will take a piece out of you and that will be that."_

_"Yes ma'am," he replied hesitantly. "I'll see about that shortly. Don't want to bother you though." He shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze. "Did you need something?"_

_Mrs. Richards' eyes grew glassy as tears beaded in the corners before slipping down her cheeks. "I wanted to ask a favor. I figured you'd be my best bet since you're out there more often than not." He worried his bottom lip, but nodded and gestured for her to continue. "My Hyram died a few days ago. Didn't know if anybody told you?" He shook his head silently, his eyes fixed on her face. "Well enough of that. I hoped that you'd keep your eyes open for some jasper stones. I'd like to use that for his marker." She pulled a stone out of her skirt pocket and showed it to him. The sides were worn smooth from being handled, the hue a bright and brilliant green. "He gave this to me on our first outing, said it matched my eyes. I've kept it with me for forty-six years now. The Lord willing, I'll be with him again soon but until then, I want to put this with him. Will you keep an eye out for me?"_

_"I'll do what I can," he said slowly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."_

_She patted his shoulder, not letting on when he flinched at the light contact. Turning back to her breakfast, she took a bite and chewed slowly, appearing to be lost in thought. He made as if to rise but stopped when her gaze swung toward him again. "He was my best friend, you know. We were never apart for one day for close to fifty years. He was my best friend, boy, knew me inside and out just like I knew him. You probably think I'm a silly old woman grieving for my dead husband. That's alright if you do but let me tell you, there's something to be said for being friends first. Those parts of you that don't make sense, when you meet the person you're supposed to be with, they make sense. That person makes you better and you make them better, boy. When you find it, you latch on and hold on with everything you've got, you hear me."_

_He opened his mouth to tell her he'd heard every word but stopped as another light touch on his shoulder pulled his head around. Carol gave him a small smile and set his plate down before nodding to Mrs. Richards and heading back the way she'd come. His gaze followed her before flicking back to the now silent woman studying him thoughtfully. He dropped his eyes back to the plate and started wolfing down his food so that he could get the hell out of there. Gulping down the last few bites, he rose to his feet and looped his crossbow over his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye out for your jasper," he promised gruffly. "Need anything else?"_

_Mrs. Richards gave him a beautiful smile and patted his arm appreciatively. "No, son, that's all. Keep yourself safe out there. A lot of folks around here would be heart sore if anything happened to you." She looked past him, causing him to follow her gaze, to where Carol was overseeing the last of the breakfast preparations. "She's a good friend, boy. You're lucky to have her."_

_"We all are," Daryl returned quietly. "She runs this damned place. We'd be lost without her."_

_Mrs. Richards nodded but her eyes were knowing behind the steel rims of her glasses. "Get along with you," she waved him off. "I've got stuff to do and can't set here jawing with you all day unless you want me to give you that haircut now."_

_"Maybe next time," he answered as he ambled off. "I'll keep an eye out for your stuff."_

_"I know you will," she said softly as she watched him catch Carol's eye across the pavilion and nod before taking off. "You're a good man, Daryl Dixon and I'm not the only one who sees it."_

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxo

"I want to hold on to something good," he muttered. "Mrs. Richards told me if I found something worth having then I needed to latch on and never let it go. It took me a while to figure it out. I ain't always gonna know the right thing to say or do. I will fuck up. You need to know that." He looked uncertain, a red tint riding high on his cheeks. "Not a lot makes sense in this world anymore but you and me, we do. We make sense."

He saw her eyes close, her fingers squeezing the jasper almost to the point of pain. His heart fell as tears began to roll silently down her face. He started to reach for her only to pull up short when she looked at him with a little smile playing about the edges of her mouth. "Let's go home," she spoke softly, reaching up to swipe ineffectually at the wetness on her cheeks.

"You mean here," he gestured to the building looming in the distance. "If this is what you want, that's what we'll do."

"No," she returned slowly. "I mean home, back to the prison."

Daryl smiled a warm wide smile that lit up his whole face. "You sure," his eyes bore into hers, demanding an answer. "We don't have to, Carol."

"I'm sure," she reached for his hand, twining their fingers together. "We do make sense, you and I. I trust that and I trust you. Everything will be fine. It will. I know it."

He nodded and tugged her in to drop a quick kiss on her smiling mouth. "We'll rest up, get our shit together, and then head for home." She could only shake her head by way of reply, his unexpected actions shocking her into silence. He quirked a brow, huffing out a laugh at her bemused expression. "Come on, woman, I ain't got all day."

She had to laugh, the joy spiraling through her leaving her no other choice. "Right behind you, Pookie," she grinned at him when he shot her a 'are you kidding me' look over his shoulder. "I mean Daryl."

He chuckled lightly and reached again for her hand as they walked toward the emergency shelter. "Sure you did," he groused. "Sure you did."

It ends…..

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Wrote this as a drabble on Tumblr to deal with my emotional wreckage following ep. 4. Looks like there might be a WIP forming here. Let me know what you think. Reviews are appreciated and loved. Thank you.


End file.
